A Rose's Thorns
by Jasmine Rose Evans
Summary: Jasmine Potter (F!Harry) came out of her abusive childhood not-quite unscathed, fitting the description of emotionally scarred, to an extent. With intelligence off the charts and a healthy dose of cunning, she makes her own name in the world. Beware, though, as every rose, no matter how beautiful, has its thorns. The thorns on this rose just happen to be toxic. AU, eventual Harmony
1. The Genius Who Lived

**A/N: Welcome to 'A Rose's Thorns'. This is a story inspired by ProfessorScrooge's 'Call me Moriarty', wordhammer's 'Holly Evans and the Spiral Path', and some psychological analysis about Harry's personality. This story is about an intelligent Jasmine (F! Harry) Potter's tale as she makes her own mark on the Wizarding world. Beware, gender-bent characters and OOC incoming.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, this work is a work of non-profit fanfiction, not meant to infringe on anyone's rightful intellectual property. The rights to the HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling and her associate partners, and everything else recognizable is credited to their respective owners.**

1981:

A cold November night saw a tabby cat with strangely arranged markings around its eyes sitting stiffly, stiffer than any normal cat could, on the perch of an unsuspecting house in Privet Drive, a street in Little Whinging, Surrey. When a muffled 'crack' broke the veil of silence that hung over the road, the stiff tabby cat could be seen transforming into a woman. She looked about forty-something years of age, had black hair done up in a bun that was covered by a witch hat, square spectacles over dark green eyes. Emerald green tartan robes covered a thin and tall frame that showed maturity and demanded respect by the way she carried herself.

Her stern gaze was set on a bearded old man currently holding some sort of lighter in his hand. When he used the lighter, the lights illuminating the streets of Privet Drive, one after another, floated towards said lighter and disappeared within the magical contraption, leaving Privet Drive in darkness.

"Albus, do you have her?" The woman asked the man wearing half-moon eyeglasses, her gaze unwavering.

"Patience, Minerva," Albus replied, his tone grandfatherly. "Hagrid has her," he added, blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight.

This set Minerva McGonagall off, though, as she knew about their gamekeeper's problems. "Albus, is it truly wise to leave young Jasmine in Hagrid's care?"

Albus only grinned. "My dear Minerva. I'd dare say that I know Hagrid as well as you do, and I also dare say I trust him with the girl."

A distinct rumbling that could only belong to an engine of a motorcycle could be heard nearing their Location as a light source, presumably the headlight, lit up Privet Drive. The bike, though, was not on the ground. It was flying and ridden by a giant of a man. Said man demounted the bike as it skidded to a halt on the ground, holding a little bundle of cloth in his arms as he made his way over to the other two individuals.

"Professor Dumbledore, professor McGonagall, I've got 'er," he said, nodding to the both of them whilst handing the baby over to Dumbledore, who quickly placed her in a crib that miraculously appeared in front of him.

As he moved to the door of a certain house Nr.4, McGonagall followed suit. She quickly voiced her concern after seeing that Dumbledore was intent on leaving her here. "Albus, you can't be serious! Leaving Jasmine with those muggles will make her childhood miserable!"

"But they are the only relatives she has left, Minerva," He explained, the house getting nearer and nearer.

"As her godmother, I cannot allow this, Albus. I've been watching them all day and they are certainly the worst type of muggles," Minerva said, intent on not letting Jasmine's childhood be sullied by the people living here.

Dumbledore halted in his step and faced her then, his grandfatherly tone saying: "But Minerva, she will only be safe near her relatives. And away from the magical world, away from prying eyes and her fame."

Minerva then conceded, thinking it imperative that she kept looking over her goddaughter, despite Albus' decision of leaving her here. "Albus, I'll have to warn you. If she's abused here in any way, there will be hell to pay," she told him, her stern demeanor not faltering in the slightest.

After a few more sentences from Albus assuring that Jasmine would be safe and healthy here Minerva finally conceded. They then left the baby on the doorstep, a note within an envelope lying on the Baby's blankets.

Little would they know that this would lead to a series events that would turn the world they knew upside down.

8 Years later:

"Get up, girl!" A gruff voice sounded outside of a cupboard, rousing the inhabitant from her sleep. The girl in question looked about 9 years old, had messy, shoulder length black hair that looked like it had seen better days and emerald green eyes that could gaze into a person's soul. Her frame, covered by pale skin, was short and diminutive, showing signs of malnourishment.

Her clothing was in a similar state to her hair in that it, also, had seen better days. Her tee was three sizes too big and seemed like it went a year without being washed or cleaned. The jeans she wore fit much the same description, much too wide, held at her thin waist only by a makeshift belt she had crafted from some duct tape she had found lying around in her cupboard. Her shoes looked like they've been drenched in mud and then left to dry, the white color having shifted into browner hues what looks like a long time ago.

As she sat up from the hard mattress that was her bed, she grabbed her round glasses and set them on her nose. Her thin lips showing a slight frown on her features as she reached up to caress her forehead and her scar.

The lightning-bolt-shaped scar she had received when she was still a little baby. The one that she acquired when her parents died. The one that had never healed over these years, not having faded or shrunk one bit when every other injury she acquired usually healed in about a day or so without medical treatment.

"Yes, uncle Vernon," she said, her lips in a scowl. "And the name is _Jasmine_."

As she got out of the cupboard and into the kitchen to make breakfast, like every morning, Vernon spoke up.

"Girl, we're going to your school today. Your teacher told me you're in trouble. What did you do this time, you freak?" His face was slowly turning purple as he said that, his anger rising.

"I've done nothing, uncle," Jasmine replied, her voice as innocent as she could muster. Her eyes, though, had an evil glint to them. ' _Time for payback,_ ' she thought as she finished the breakfast that she wasn't even allowed to eat.

About an hour later, Jasmine was sitting in the headmaster's office, along with her aunt and uncle. "Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, I have something to discuss with you," The headmaster spoke as he got out a folder marked with the name _Jasmine Potter_.

"You see, your niece has shown superior intelligence compared to her peers. She doesn't fit in her grade," the headmaster continued, pulling several documents out of the folder. The documents were test results and all had one thing in common. They were all marked with the maximum amount of acquirable credits. "The teacher said that she didn't even need 10 minutes for a 45-minute final exam suited for grade 5, and yet she is the only one to receive full marks on it."

"So, she's a freak?" Vernon Dursley asked, his fat face morphing into what could be discerned as a grin.

"I'd not call her that," the headmaster replied, his face stern. "I'd put her into a grade 6 class, as she is a very talented and smart girl, well beyond her age."

A rumble stopped the headmaster from talking further, his gaze wandering to Jasmine, who was sitting across from him. "Are you hungry, Jasmine?" he asked, looking into her eyes.

"A bit, headmaster. I'm not allowed breakfast at home," she said, smiling softly. In her peripheral vision, she saw Petunia's face go pale. All was going according to her plan.

The headmaster then frowned as his gaze scanned her body, only then noticing that she was thinner than kids her age should be. He then noticed for the first time that Jasmine's outward appearance wasn't very refined and certainly showed signs of child abuse. As he then stared into her eyes, he shuddered. The cold, calculating gaze she sent him was nothing short of unnerving as he weighed his options.

"If you are thinking about whether my aunt and uncle have provided sufficient care for me, I believe it be imperative that you know at least _some_ of the gross neglect they have decided to show their _niece_ ," Jasmine said, deducing that the headmaster was attempting to figure out what was happening to her at home.

"If you at least knew," she continued, "about what went on in that lovely schoolyard of yours, you'd see that I have been not only abused by those two at home, but by their uneducated fat oaf of a son as well. In your schoolyard, no less." She said that without breaking eye contact, rising from her chair.

"I know that that lovely window behind you has a nice view of the school courtyard, so I suggest you let me go into class and _observe_ what is going on _in your school_ right now. And then, you can finally decide to press charges for child abuse against those two." Jasmine now moved to the door, opened it and bowed before walking off.

Two hours of anxious anticipation for the Dursleys and two hours of sleeping in class for Jasmine later, she was indeed harassed by Dudley and his friends during break, as per usual. This time, though, the headmaster intervened and suspended them for a month.

He then approached Jasmine with an apology and, after class has ended, they found themselves back in the headmaster's office.

"I think," the headmaster said, "that a lot of things have escaped my attention recently. I must apologize, Jasmine."

"I have no reason to resent you, headmaster. You have done nothing to catch my ire, contrary to my relatives here." Jasmine then turned to face her aunt and uncle. "Aunt Petunia, I think you and I both know what will happen if you continue to treat me like some sort of slave at home, right? It'd be a shame if it came out that you treated your _niece_ like a tool."

The headmaster only then grasped the severity of the situation at hand and saw what was happening to his most gifted student. Not only had she been abused at home, she was no better off at school either. "Mr. and Mrs. Dursley," he started, "not only did you show your niece gross neglect and abuse, you have also obviously not taken the necessary steps to ensure that she has the proper means to further educate herself. Despite her young age, these cases are punishable by prison time and -"

He was interrupted by Jasmine holding up her hand to stop him from further saying anything. "I'm sure that this situation, despite me not minding seeing them in prison, can be easily amended if aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon would treat me properly from now on and somewhat compensate for their earlier misbehavior. I would, if they agreed to such, refrain from pressing charges against them. Spending time with 'family' would at least be more tolerable than in an orphanage."

Seeing his freak niece taking charge and disobeying his will like that, Vernon's face was quick to change into a purple color, showing his anger. "You little -"

He was interrupted by Petunia, who hit him in his ribs with her elbow. "I'm sure we'd find an agreement that will be amenable for all the parties involved," she said, her tone placating.

A while after that, an angry Vernon and a relieved Petunia left the office after Jasmine. When they got home, they made sure to cancel most of Dudley's privileges and moved Jasmine up to the empty guest room. They then told her they'd take her out shopping tomorrow for books and clothing.

Two years later, Jasmine had effectively graduated high school a few days before her 11th birthday. She was a prodigy in academics and effectively out-witted most high school students 5 years her senior. She demanded, though, that no one except for her aunt and uncle, who paid for her tuition, knew of her academic success.

Her relationship with said relatives wasn't any less frosty than what it was two years ago. They still resented her and she still met them in kind with more than they initially thought possible for a then-9-now11-year-old child. But then again, they feared her more than they should fear a normal child that was barely in her teens.

On her 11th birthday, Minerva McGonagall decided to personally bring Jasmine the acceptance letter for Hogwarts school for witchcraft and wizardry. She apparated to an intersection near the Dursley's house and walked the short way over to Nr.4 Privet Drive. Three curt knocks later she stood face to face with the rather fat Vernon Dursley.

"Hello, Mr. Dursley," she started, "I believe I have a goddaughter to greet."

Vernon quickly scanned McGonagall up and down, from her pointed hat to her emerald green tartan robes. He quickly deduced that she must be one of those freaks who first put that thrice-damned girl on their doorstep. "What do you freaks want from us? There's no girl living in our household." With that, Vernon slammed the door closed.

If he hadn't been stopped by McGonagall, who had quickly drawn her wand and cast a stasis spell on the door. "Tut tut tut, Mr. Dursley. You know well enough that Jasmine lives here," Minerva chastised, before casting a _Sonorus_ and shouting "Jasmine?"

Hearing her name being called by an unfamiliar voice, Jasmine quickly came downstairs from her room to face whoever had called her. It was then that Minerva saw that her goddaughter had grown up.

She was elegantly dressed for a girl her age and the way she carried herself betrayed the fact that she was more mature than her 11 years suggested. A pristine white dress shirt coupled with a midnight blue plaid skirt that went to her knees, black tights and black shoes with just an inch of heel made her look like someone from noble descent.

Her face had somewhat matured as well. A lot of the baby fat she had when she was a little toddler was gone as soon as she was mistreated by the Dursleys, leaving her with a slim, more defined face than an 11-year-old child should have. Elegant black-rimmed glasses on her nose, slim frame, still pale complexion and high cheekbones gave her the looks of a 15 or so year-old girl, minus the curves that were certainly going to show in her later years. Her black hair now went down to the middle of her back and it was evident that she took good care of it in the recent years.

The last defining features of Jasmine's were those bright green eyes that showed intelligence and cunning far beyond her age and that lightning-bolt shaped scar that just wouldn't go away no matter how long had passed.

"Yes?" Jasmine was now facing Minerva, scanning her with a suspicious gaze.

Minerva McGonagall smiled. "Hello, Jasmine," she spoke, "my name is Minerva McGonagall, and I've got something for you. Now if your uncle would be so kind as to let us discuss this somewhere more comfortable?" Her tone left no argument and one look from Jasmine silenced any objection Vernon could have had.

"Hello, Miss McGonagall," Jasmine greeted, "I'm sure we could move this to the dining room. I'll serve us some tea as something tells me that this matter is not lightly spoken of." With that, she made her way to the kitchen and started boiling water, Minerva following suit.

As they both settled down, Minerva handed Jasmine her letter and smiled. "Read it," she asked of the girl.

Jasmine opened the letter and read its contents, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. As she was done, she eyed McGonagall with a suspicious glance.

"Is this some kind of prank?" Jasmine asked, very suspicious about the contents of this letter.

As she said that, the teapot she had set down a minute ago levitated itself and poured some of its contents into McGonagall's cup. Then, the sugar jar levitated itself and a teaspoon of sugar flew into said teacup.

"Let me assure you that this is certainly not a prank," Minerva said, smiling softly. "Alas, why would I decide to prank my own goddaughter?"

Realization hit Jasmine like a brick as her eyes widened in sudden understanding, putting all the facts together. "So… Magic exists?" She asked, tentatively.

"Yes, Jasmine, magic exists. Now… if you'd be up for it I'd like to spend some time with you," Minerva said, her smile a bit wider now.

"Of course, I would, Miss McGonagall," Jasmine replied, still somewhat unsure. "So, you know my parents?" Her voice carried a sliver of hope now.

"Yes, I do," Minerva replied, pulling out a moving photo of two people dancing. The man had black, messy hair the same shade as Jasmine's and the woman had Jasmine's eyes. "They were wonderful people, and my favorite students of their year," she added, handing Jasmine the picture.

It was then that jasmine picked up some inconsistencies in her aunt and uncle's tales of her parents. According to them, her parents were good for nothing drunks and died in a car crash. Relaying that message to McGonagall, her expression became one of unbridled fury as she almost ripped the Dursleys to shreds with only her words.

It was only then Jasmine noticed that she had no idea what her relationship with Minerva McGonagall was. "Ummm… Miss McGonagall, how should I address you? While it is apparent that you've been appointed my godmother by my parents, we are still strangers, as matter of fact. I'm sure you'd like me to be on a first name basis, perchance, but it seemed impolite to do so without asking beforehand."

This question and the following observations made it clear to Minerva that the girl she was talking to was more mature than her age suggested, ' _and smarter as well_ ,' she silently mused. She smiled softly at that notion. "You may call me Minerva, Jasmine. Or perchance you'd prefer a more familiar term? If you feel comfortable enough, you can feel free to call me 'mum'. I feel that you've been neglected as a child and never shown a mother's love, and I'd like to rectify that."

Five minutes later, Minerva had Jasmine walking out of the Dursleys' house, all the things she needed for the remainder of the summer packed into a trunk she shrunk and put into her pocket.

Another five minutes later and she was in Diagon Alley, explaining the wizarding world and enjoying the look of pure wonderment in her goddaughter's eyes. That look quickly turned into one of delight when she spotted Flourish and Blotts for the first time.

"Ummm… mum? Could I have some books?" Jasmine asked, the excitement obvious in her voice.

Wanting to indulge her goddaughter but also knowing that she had to get Jasmine some money of her own first, she conceded that they'd visit the bookstore first thing after getting Jasmine some money from the Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

Two exhilarating cart rides, a bunch of Goblins and a vault full of Galleons later, Jasmine was standing outside of Gringotts with a huge smile on her face. The things she could accomplish with that amount of money was already in her mind as she planned some of the things she would do.

Everything would have to wait, though, as she intended on buying out half the bookstore right now.

Half an hour later Jasmine left Flourish and Blotts with a crate of fifty books in her pocket and her wallet several Galleons lighter. After that, the two witches went to Ollivander's to outfit Jasmine with a wand of her own.

"Welcome," Ollivander, the shopkeeper, greeted as he saw the two witches enter. "Miss Potter. I've been expecting you." He pulled out a wand from a shelf as he went, handing it to Jasmine. "Give it a wave."

As Jasmine waved the wand, the mock wand in the display window broke, and Ollivander quickly snatched the wand from her hand. "Not this one, then," he muttered, handing her another wand.

A few dozens of wands and an equal amount of bad results later, they finally found a wand that fit Jasmine. It was 11 inches long, made from holly and had a phoenix feather core.

"Interesting," Ollivander said, "the phoenix which gave your wand its core only gave me two feathers. And the other feather is responsible for the scar you have on your forehead, Miss Potter."

After briefly pondering this fact, Jasmine paid for the wand and went back out into the alley. This information was going to be of use to her later. She was certain of that.

After that, the two witches proceeded to get Jasmine everything else she needed for her first year at Hogwarts and eventually decided to retire to Minerva's flat in Hogwarts. They spent the rest of the evening getting to know each other, explaining Jasmine's past and said young witch learning some simple magic from her godmother.

It was during the time spent bonding that Jasmine felt, for the first time in her life, some stirring of warmth in her previously cold heart. It was, as she came to describe it, not an unpleasant feeling in the least.

It was three weeks after Jasmine turned 11 when Minerva McGonagall stood in her apartment in Hogwarts castle, utterly amazed at what she saw. She noticed that there was a new intricate tea set on her coffee table, cushions for the chairs in her office, a cat bed, out of all things, in her bedroom along with a fluffy mouse chew toy.

As she checked into Jasmine's room, she noticed a cauldron boiling over the enchanted fire, happily sizzling away. The steam from said cauldron went into a hood equipped with banishing charms. Upon closer inspection – and referencing the textbook that was on Jasmine's desk – Minerva found out that the potion currently brewing was the moderately difficult all-purpose antidote for uncommon poisons.

An unusually large black and white owl flew through the room's open windows and landed gracefully before Minerva. As she eyed the big owl suspiciously, it transformed and she was face to face with her goddaughter, wearing a cheeky grin and mirth in her eyes.

"Welcome home, mum," Jasmine greeted, poking her still shocked godmother in the arm once she noted the elder witch's state of shock.

As the elder witch slowly came to her senses, though, she noticed the pile of transfiguration textbooks standing on Jasmine's bookshelf. She also noted that those were more complex than OWL-level transfiguration.

"I have to assume that you've been busy studying," Minerva enquired, having a general idea on what the 11-year-old child spent her time alone on after she taught her the first bit of magic.

After having found out that her goddaughter was a prodigy in muggle schools, she really shouldn't have expected that Jasmine _wouldn't_ be talented witch.

"You've left me here, alone, if I may add, for two weeks, mum," Jasmine complained, "I've literally got nothing to do here except for studying and practicing spells."

That brought a contemplative look to Minerva's face, which then quickly morphed into a small, reserved smile. "I guess not," she finally said. "I assume you're more than ready to take your Transfiguration OWLs already?" She asked this question because she suddenly had something in mind.

"I would suppose so… although the more complicated spells would drive me into magical exhaustion when used in quick succession. I don't think you'd have a solution to that, though?" Jasmine's answer made the elder witch's eyes widen, as she had, for a moment, forgotten that Jasmine was only 11 years old.

"I do suppose that's an issue," Minerva started, her tone contemplative. "But I think we could just stretch out the practical exams over the next week so you won't exhaust yourself. That being said, I'd like to know if you'd like to help me instruct first years this year? I'd get the headmaster to approve, I'm certain."

Jasmine's eyes widened like saucers as she heard her godmother say that. ' _An opportunity to work together with mum and essentially skipping on one of the subjects? That's great_ ,' she thought as she quickly nodded her affirmative.

She then proceeded to start on dinner, waving her wand casually. Minerva looked on in wonder as her goddaughter started cutting the vegetables, steaming the rice and seasoning the meat, all at the same time and herself only using magic to coordinate the task.

About half an hour later, the two witches sat at the dinner table, eating the dinner and discussing what Jasmine had done during the two weeks Minerva was in London doing business.

"I honestly couldn't think of many different pastimes here, as there really wasn't much to do," Jasmine recounted, "so I resorted to the things I usually did when I'm bored. Reading. In the muggle world, knowledge is considered almost an equivalent to power. I imagine it little different in the magical world."

Minerva smiled at Jasmine's diligence to learn and didn't doubt that she'd eventually end up in Ravenclaw if she continued her current studious behavior. It goes without saying that she had inherited much of her mother's intelligence and talent, especially when it comes to charms and transfiguration. "You're quite right, Jasmine. Although one also must consider the magical prowess of a person to truly see their power. There is a saying in the muggle world that I like to quote in these situations: 'neither will alone nor force alone will grant true power.' I believe the analogy is fairly apparent."

"Quite true," Jasmine said, smiling. "Oh, and mum, did you know," Jasmine continued, "that the magical world is full of bigots, sexists, fanatics, and racists? I imagine you do, as you've been living and growing up here."

That startled said witch, though, and prompted her to think about what Jasmine just said. It certainly does seem like the magical world is full of bigoted, blood puristic, sexist and racist people, especially those in the higher echelons of society.

As Minerva's father was a muggle himself, she did have a bit of experience looking at the world from a non-magical perspective. All these years she has spent in this world, though, dulled her perception and she adopted this world as her own.

"I mean… this world is certainly opinionated when it comes to certain subjects -" the elder witch started, but was quickly interrupted by Jasmine, who seemed to pick up on her discomfort.

"I apologize, I'm… not really adept at this 'polite conversation' thing… It seems that I lack the emotional sensitivity and the capacity to properly show emotion, which most people seem to acquire growing up. And… upon further self-examination, I feel that I don't really fit in either society, be it muggle or magical, at all." As Jasmine said this, her tone was calm and her demeanor was neutral. But it truly didn't take a genius to see that Jasmine was dealing with some issues of her own.

This shocked the elder witch for the second time this day, as she quietly thought about what that statement meant, both implicitly and explicitly. Jasmine seemed to have trouble picking up on emotion and is rather estranged to human interaction. In fact, she seems estranged from the concept of human contact altogether, which spoke volumes about her early childhood. "Dumbledore…" she muttered, followed by a series of curses that would make sailors blush and a silent promise to protect the young witch in front of her.

"It's alright, Jasmine. It'll come with time, I'm sure."

After that assurance, Jasmine smiled weakly and resumed eating her dinner. She had most certainly picked up on her godmother's curses and was now wondering what that was all about. After that, only little conversation was deemed necessary by the witches as they finished their dinners in relative silence, both pondering about something the other said in the last few minutes.

Two days later, Jasmine had finished her written Transfiguration OWL, visited Diagon Alley again with Minerva and had the pleasure, or displeasure, to watch said witch having a very serious conversation with Albus Dumbledore about leaving her goddaughter to be abused by her relatives. During this time, she grew to truly respect the righteous fury that Minerva McGonagall had when she was truly angry about something.

Jasmine also noticed the sharp wit of her godmother as she has deduced quite a few issues Jasmine had just by looking at her and observing her quirks and mannerisms. Jasmine kept her emotions very close to heart and her thought process is driven by logic and rationality, even when facing extreme conditions. Her lack of human interaction, along with her near-photographic memory, made her sharper than most and yet dense, to an extent. When reading people, only a glance is enough to deduce a major part of their lives, but she is near incapable of picking up on subtle emotions and people's feelings about her statements. That may also be a reason for her preferring books to keep her company.

And despite having had some semblance of interaction with her godmother, she was still more or less an enigma to Jasmine. Whilst the glaringly obvious facts hinted at the fact that she was a strict, no-nonsense woman, the kindness she displayed at times was baffling and a stark contrast to the strictness she displayed otherwise. Additionally, her ability to read Jasmine, and other people, was uncanny. Jasmine wasn't sure if she liked it or not.

Jasmine also noted that her godmother was an easy-going person but had, according to herself, the strictest policies in the classroom amongst the Hogwarts professors. Again, that set her apart from all the one-dimensional people Jasmine has met thus far. She then realized how truly boring people could be and the true value of a companion who understood her on an intellectual level.

The two witches were sitting, once again, at the dinner table, this time enjoying some pizza Jasmine has baked. The discussion between the two was kept mostly casual until Jasmine brought up the issue of her being famous. "Say, mum, what do you think I should do to keep a low profile?"

Minerva went thoughtful at the younger witch's words, unsure of what advice to give her. "Hmmm… Do you not like being famous?"

"I just think it illogical that I'd be famous for something that cost my parents their lives… If I were ever to be famous, and I don't detest the idea, I'd like it due to something I've accomplished myself."

"I see. I'd then suggest you changing your last name to your mother's maiden name for now. That way, all your options, including the seat at the Wizengamot, are still open to you when you come of age. I suggest visiting Gringotts tomorrow to get it done."

"Wait, I have a Wizengamot seat?"

"Three, actually. Two from steward families that are under the Potter banner."

Jasmine's eyes widened at the implications of Minerva's words. So many possibilities were opened to her if she only had access to the seats that were rightfully hers. Furthermore, this brought her attention to the fact that her parents never had a will. Deciding to inquire about that, she asked her next question.

"Whilst the Wizengamot seats won't be of any use until I'm of age, I'd like to know what has become of my parents' wills. I assume that somebody has prevented the reading of said wills, as I've never even known about anything pertaining my family's fortunes before."

At this question, a small, reserved smile appeared on Minerva's face. She was certain that Jasmine's inquisitive and analytical nature would have found this to be suspicious sooner than later. The fact that she's found out so quickly was a pleasant surprise to her. "I'm sure Gringotts has a copy, Jasmine. Yet another reason to head there."

And so, Jasmine's plan to visit Gringotts the next day was finalized. The conversation topics then turned to the lesson plans and Jasmine's Transfiguration OWLs, which she was passing with flying colors.

The next morning was spent with Jasmine finishing her Transfiguration practical exams, leaving her exhausted until lunch. That was spent with a very happy Minerva, no doubt due to Jasmine's outstanding exam results.

In the afternoon, the two had an appointment to make in Gringotts Wizarding Bank to view the Potter will and, hopefully, changing Jasmine's last name.

The two strolled into the now somewhat familiar halls of the bank to meet their Goblin accountant.

"Ah. Miss Potter, correct?" The Goblin at the front desk inquired, meeting her green eyes with an expression that passed as a toothy grin.

"Quite," she replied, "I believe we have an appointment here, as my magical guardian has made an appointment with my parents' accountant regarding their wills. If you'd be able to show us to a room, I'd be grateful for the assistance."

The Goblin at the front desk was surprised at Jasmine's behavior. Not only was she polite, but she didn't seem to feel superior in comparison to Goblins. ' _The young one regards us as equals in business_ ,' he mused, his long-fingered hand reaching out and pointing at a hallway in the left. "Your accountant is waiting in the third room along the corridor, Miss Potter."

Grinning and thanking the Goblin, who acknowledged it with a nod, she walked towards the corridor that was guarded by two Goblins holding crossed halberds. As she approached, the guardians held their weapons to their sides, granting the two witches passage.

Entering the room, they saw a square redwood table with piles of documents stacked neatly in the center and three comfortable looking chairs. The Goblin sitting in one of the chairs looked up and greeted them politely. "Miss Potter, Professor McGonagall, I am Barchoke, the senior accountant for the Potter accounts."

"Greetings, Barchoke. I have some questions regarding my parents' wills and my current vault."

"Ah yes. The Potter vaults. One of the most Ancient and Noble houses and one of the first houses to open a vault here. One vault quickly became insufficient to the house as their fortunes multiplied, no doubt due to their keen sense of business. The vault you currently have access to, Miss Potter, is but a small part of the immense Potter fortune."

"My apologies," Jasmine interrupted, "that is very nice, but I am quite aware of most of these historical facts already."

"Ah. A scholarly one, I see. On to the will, then. Your parents have left copies of their wills in Gringotts, for they feared that they are not to be executed by the Wizengamot. Gringotts was granted executive power over the wills by your parents shortly before their passing. Despite that, though, the Chief Warlock has sealed the Potter will. Gringotts then has refrained from executing the will as it could have caused political problems without an entitled executive intent behind the wills. We had our hands bound."

"Your so-called entitled executive intent would be my desire to have the will read, correct?"

Barchoke grinned. "Yes, Miss Potter. Shall we head down to the vault, then? I'm sure you'd like to see it read as soon as possible."

At Jasmine's nod and words of confirmation, Barchoke waved a hand and a doorway appeared, revealing a Gringotts cart. "This will take us down to the Potter family vault, Miss Potter. If you'd follow me."

Following Barchoke and mounting the cart, Jasmine and Minerva were quickly transported down to Gringotts vault Nr.507, the Potter family vault. Demounting the cart and tracing his finger along the middle of the vault door, Barchoke opened the door to the vault.

The vault revealed itself to be more like a library than a vault inside, books were neatly arranged on shelves against the wall and a dark wooden desk sat at the end of the vault. Only at the desk itself Jasmine saw the money storage system, someone - probably her parents - decided to implement for the vault. A panel displaying a very large number was built inside the desk, next to it a stack of strips of parchment and an ever-lasting quill. Two openings could be found, one round and large enough for a bag of coins and another thin and rectangular, just large enough for the stripes of parchment to fit in.

Barchoke then took a stripe of parchment, wrote the word 'will' on it, and put it into the small opening. Then, the drawer beneath the desk, which no one had noticed before, opened, displaying the Potter will, sealed with the Potter seal. Retrieving the letter, Barchoke noted the inscription on the front of the envelope: ' _This will is ONLY to be opened by the direct descendant of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, and ONLY if the will stored in Wizengamot chambers hasn't been read upon James and Lily Potter's demise._ '

Taking the letter from Barchoke, a golden glow surrounded Jasmine briefly and the wax seal disappeared. Jasmine asked: "I believe that opening it is in order now?"

After a nod from Barchoke and Minerva, Jasmine opened the letter to read what her parents have written.

" _This is the last will of James and Lily Potter, composed when under control of all mental faculties and good health. This testament invalidates the will left in the Ministry of Magic the moment this document is unsealed and was written in the event of neither of the persons above surviving the war and the version of the testament stated above being put into stasis by the Wizengamot. Any and all claims on the Potter vaults and Potter fortunes by other persons than the ones stated below are hereby null and void. Additionally, all funds withdrawn in loco parentis or otherwise without the consent of Potter heirs by individuals not named in the bequeaths or otherwise authorized are to return to the vault with an interest of 1% p. a. Of course, withdrawals on basis of bills and business are unaffected._

 _To Jasmine Lily Potter:_

 _Jasmine, your dad and I love you very much and we wish that this document will never fall into your hands. Because if it did, as you are reading now, we will be gone from this world and our previous will regarding you was disregarded. Your father and I would have given anything to remain by your side, but put your safety first. We joined this war to create a better world for you to live in, fully aware that this might cost us our lives. Never doubt that we loved you, and remember that we always will love you. As for reasons above, we assume that you did not spend your childhood in the care of your godparents, Minerva McGonagall and Sirius Black._

 _We went into hiding due to the insistence of one Albus Dumbledore, because of a prophecy being made about a child bearing the power to defeat Lord Voldemort. We suspected that the child was you. Voldemort then targeted us, and we left Potter Manor in favor of a house placed under the Fidelius charm, located in Godric's Hollow. Everyone thought that your godfather was our secret keeper, but as Lily cast the charm, we deemed it better to have a diversion and let Peter Pettigrew become the secret keeper. If you are hearing this, either Peter has betrayed us or we were caught outside of our house in the brief moments we needed to conduct family affairs outside the house._

 _We would have loved nothing more than to be with you and witness you grow into a wonderful young lady, but we knew our risks when we joined the fight against Voldemort. We only hope that you've grown up in a world without all the troubles that we faced in the war, and that you've grown up happy._

 _Truly, though, we both now know that this is most likely not the case if you are reading this, but wish you whatever happiness we can muster for your future._

 _Now, on to the bequeaths._

 _To Minerva McGonagall, Jasmine's magical guardian and godmother, you were my favorite teacher and, after my years in Hogwarts, a close and true friend and confidante. Despite the serious air you put up, I'd like you to know that it is, in fact, okay and recommended to have fun once in a while. I hope that Jasmine will learn a lot from you, both in Transfiguration and in life. I hope you'll be a guiding light in her life and give her the love of a mother. I leave to you a sum of one hundred thousand Galleons and our houses in Hogsmeade and Edinburgh. I wish that you and Jasmine might find some family in each other, the family you both never truly had. With regards, Lily._

 _To Remus John Lupin, I leave you a sum of one hundred thousand Galleons, hopefully, to end your financial worries once and for all. There's no return receipt on it, Moony. I'd hope you'll find a wonderful woman to eventually settle down with, as your brilliant mind will certainly not allow any less than that. That's why I'll also be leaving you with the house westwards of Potter Manor we purchased a while back. It was intended to be yours anyway, so there's no returning that either. Most of all, though, I ask of you to be there for Jasmine and help Minerva in any way you can. With regards, James._

 _To Sirius Orion Black, I leave a symbolic sum of one Galleon and the Marauder's journal that is in the family vault. I know that you won't need the money, Sirius and that you'd ignore the will and give it back to Jasmine anyways. You were my brother in all but blood and I'm sure Lily also saw you as such. I'm so sorry that I've left you here, but I'm sure that we'll meet one another again, eventually. Until then, James._

 _We leave the rest of our belongings to our daughter, Jasmine Lily Potter. She is to have full access to all Potter vaults for reasonable purchases and usage of funds the moment this will is enacted. The tuition for Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry was already paid in full. We expect you to do well in school, Jasmine. We would like to note that the previous will stated that her vaults will be inaccessible until Jasmine's coming of age._

 _If Minerva McGonagall was killed in the war and before the reading of the will, we leave Jasmine's custody to the next people on this list._

 _Sirius Orion Black_

 _Remus John Lupin_

 _Edgar & Amelia Bones_

 _Robert McGonagall_

 _If the unthinkable has happened and all the people above are deceased, we ask that Jasmine be independent and recognized as magical adult if she displays the emotional and mental maturity of an adult person. If this is not the case, Jasmine is to be placed with a light-aligned wizarding family. Under no circumstances is Jasmine to be placed with Lily's brother-in-law, Vernon Dursley, who is known to despise magic and the magical world._

 _Signed and verified by_

 _James Potter_

 _Lily Potter (nee Evans)_

 _Witnessed by_

 _Sirius Orion Black_

 _Remus John Lupin._ "

After reading the will, the three individuals there were silent, each processing the will's contents silently. The prophecy, the family fortunes, the houses, Jasmine's parents' words and contingencies. Jasmine wanted, no, needed time to process that.

Minerva fared no different. Knowing that Sirius Black, a man she believed to be a betrayer, was innocent made her think about the different dubious actions of several different individuals at certain times. The elder witch then thought about the words directly directed at her, unshed tears in her eyes. ' _I've failed them_ ,' she thought, ' _but I won't fail them anymore. I'm sorry, Lily. I'm sorry, James. I'm sorry, Jasmine._ '

Sensing her godmother's distress, and quickly deducing the reason for said distress, Jasmine had Minerva in a tight, if a little awkward, embrace, whispering to her: "It's alright, mum. You're here now, and that's all that matters. Don't beat yourself up over others' mistakes."

Once again Minerva was amazed by Jasmine's perceptiveness, but she returned the hug nonetheless. When they parted, Minerva apologized to Jasmine for not checking up on her and leaving her with the Dursleys.

"It's alright, mum. You couldn't have known that it'd be that bad. Also, I can hardly blame you for trying to keep me safe… although that part didn't work out very well."

After that, Barchoke spoke up. "Lady Potter, I shall see the will executed as soon as possible. If you'd follow me, please."

One cart ride later and they found themselves back in Barchoke's office, where he procured a heavy looking redwood case inscribed with runes and a needle. "Lady Potter, we will need three drops of blood on the case to bind the vaults to your name. And you'll need to hand out your key to the trust vault, please."

Taking the proffered vault key and vanishing it, he mentioned for Jasmine to prick her finger with the needle. Three drops of blood later, the little wound on Jasmine's finger disappeared, the needle disappeared and a silver glow surrounded the case as a few clicks could be heard.

Barchoke opened the case and produced a ring, upon which three silver keys hung, handing them to Jasmine. All of them had the Potter crest engraved on the Bow, the words 'trust', 'family' and 'business' carved beneath the crests.

Taking the keys, Jasmine thanked Barchoke and moved on to the second reason for her appointment. "I'd like to change my last and middle name if that's possible."

"Certainly, Lady Potter. Although I must advise against any radical family name changes, as it could lead to several different political issues you might find less than pleasant." Barchoke's reply had Jasmine thinking, mostly about the implications of going back to her mother's maiden name.

She decided to simply push the question, as asking couldn't hurt. "Is it possible to go back to my mother's maiden name? I'd like to keep all the fame off my name and still have a connection to my family."

"That is certainly possible, Lady Potter. I suggest a double last name, for it would be the easiest way to circumvent the possible political problems that might occur. So, your name would be Jasmine Evans-Potter, with the latter part of the last name falling away in all the contracts that don't require your full name. As far as I know, only the marriage contract and some rare contracts not worth mentioning would dictate such a thing, so you'd be widely known as Jasmine Evans."

Jasmine smiled softly, thinking it a good idea. She'd keep herself out of any problems and masked her fame. "Thank you, Barchoke. And I'd think to go with 'Rose' for my middle name. It'd make people connecting me to my family even harder if I didn't share my middle name with my mother's first name."

Barchoke then procured the required documents and a blood quill to sign it. "Use this quill to sign the document, please. It will seal the contract and legally change your name to whatever you sign."

After Jasmine signed 'Jasmine Rose Evans-Potter' on the parchment, a glow once again surrounded her and the parchment, the parchment rolling up and a wax seal appearing out of thin air upon it.

"Well, Lady Evans," Barchoke spoke, "It'd appear that your change of title is successful. The Ministry of Magic has already been informed, along with everyone else that needed to be notified.

"Thank you, Barchoke. It was pleasant doing business with you. I look forward to many shared profits and prosperity for us in the future." Jasmine then stood up, holding a hand out towards the Goblin.

"You are most welcome, Lady Evans. The pleasure was all mine. May your future be firmly set on the roads of prosperity." Barchoke stood up as well, taking Jasmine's hand and shaking it as he spoke. "I shall see the rest of your parents' wills enacted, Lady Evans."

Minerva and Jasmine returned to Hogwarts after that, enjoying some Chinese cuisine courtesy of Jasmine. The conversation was mainly about Jasmine's parents' past, including several anecdotes and little stories about James's and Lily's times at Hogwarts.

"Jasmine, as the school year will begin in a few days, and we need lesson plans for the first years. I'll be sending you to King's Cross Station for the Hogwarts Express on September 1st if you want to. If not, you can simply join the other first years in the Great Hall with me."

"As much as I'd love to avoid additional human interaction, you and I both know that it'd be best to get to know my peers earlier than later." After Jasmine said that, a snowy owl flew through the open window and landed on Jasmine's shoulder.

Minerva just smiled. "This, my dear, is Hedwig. I've purchased her from Eyelops Owl Emporium in Diagon Alley. I think you'll enjoy flying with her and having a familiar, as she is yours."

"Thank you, mum." Jasmine once again felt something stir in her chest. It was the feeling of happiness, warmth, and love she had come to feel once in a while over the last few weeks.

The witches spent the next few days making lesson plans, finalizing some more paperwork, getting some of Lily's notes on advanced transfiguration for Minerva and, for Jasmine, reading up some more on other subjects and flying with Hedwig.

On the morning of September first, Jasmine was at King's Cross in London, waiting to board the Hogwarts Express for her new school year. Her school trunk was left with Professor McGonagall to lessen the burden.

She stood there, between platforms nine and ten, dressed in a short-sleeved sky-blue shirt, black plaid skirt, black tights and midnight blue ballet flats. A long grey coat completed her outfit to ward her from the early autumn morning chill.

Taking her glasses off and wiping them with a corner of her coat, she found herself bored out of her wits as she waited for the portal to be open. ' _At least no one will stare at that stupid scar on my forehead_ ', she thought, having used self-transfiguration to hide the scar.

Casting one last glance at the muggle half of King's Cross Station, Jasmine left the muggle world, swearing that she'd only return for her own business and on her own terms.

 **A/N: I believe that I should leave things here for the time being. The next chapter will feature the trip to Hogwarts castle, the Sorting and the first few days of school. Please review and let me know if this is something I should continue or not, and if there are any inconsistencies in terms of storytelling, as I am still pretty new to writing. I do appreciate encouragement and criticism, so don't refrain from saying your mind. The following chapters will be about this length and updates should be expected about once or twice a month. There's simply no way I could do anything better than that.**


	2. Hogwarts: A Bother

**A/N: Welcome to this chapter of 'A Rose's Thorns'. Without further ado, enjoy.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, this work is a work of non-profit fanfiction, not meant to infringe on anyone's rightful intellectual property. The rights to the HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling and her associate partners, and everything else recognizable is credited to their respective owners.**

Jasmine sat in her personal little train compartment at the rear end of the train, which had departed from King's Cross about an hour ago, choosing the compartment due to her not desiring any visitors. As she looked absentmindedly at the scenery, she mused about her plans, the upcoming sorting being her next target. ' _It'd be obvious that I'll be sorted into Ravenclaw… However, I think that I'd be better located somewhere near mum in Gryffindor._ '

Eventually, she was knocked out of her musings by someone opening the door. "Excuse me, is there something free over here? Every other compartment is too packed for my tastes."

The female voice asking for entrance belonged to a bushy-haired, brown-eyed witch. Jasmine, out of habit, gave her a preliminary once-over.

She had dainty hands, but a few of her fingertips had a few tiny thin lines running along them, slightly paler than the skin. ' _Traces of scars on her fingertips, frequent reader. Some faded residue ink under fingernails, organized, probably writes a lot. Thin arms and legs, not very physically fit._ ' Judging by the quality of her, admittedly bushy, hair, it's apparent that the bushiness isn't intentional. Her clothes were of timeless design, but not a fashion statement by any means. It is obvious that she doesn't care about looks. ' _Again, signs of a scholar. Interesting, considering her age,_ ' Jasmine mused, wondering about her intellect.

' _Possibly busy parents, scholarly nature, more mature than her age suggests. Intelligent from reading a large number of books. Her gaze is always curious, always learning. Her posture shows her confidence in her knowledge, but also reveals her being insecure about things she considers as unknown. She is, judging by her movements, patient when she needs to be, although somewhat stubborn and opinionated in certain conditions._ '

Deciding that it was probably a good idea to get to know one of her more formidable peers on a deeper level, she mentioned to the free chairs inside her compartment. "Go ahead. Have your pick."

Thanking Jasmine, the new girl sat down in the seat facing the Girl-Who-Lived, setting her bag in the free seat next to her.

Jasmine, thinking that any more people entering the compartment would prove to be a test for her patience, took her wand out of her arm holster and cast a quick _Colloportus_ on the door, watching it close and glow softly. After that, she cast the more complex Anti-Alohomora charm on the door, making it near impossible to open from the outside. She did not miss the flash of bewildered expression on the girl's face, gone as quickly as it came.

"Whilst I appreciate _some_ company, too many people in a tightly enclosed space can grate on my nerves rather quickly," Jasmine said with a slight grin.

"My name is Hermione Jean Granger," the girl, Hermione, said, introducing herself with a smile. "And if I may inquire your name?"

' _And polite too_ ,' her opposite thought, before speaking aloud: "Of course. My name is Jasmine Rose Evans. It's nice to meet you, Miss Granger."

"It's nice to meet you too," Hermione replied, "what is that second charm, if I may ask?"

That inquiry brought a grin to Jasmine's face. ' _A scholar indeed_ ,' she thought, before answering aloud. "That's the Anti-Alohomora Charm. It does what the name says."

"That is not a first-year charm."

"No, it isn't," Jasmine confirmed. ' _Overeager to learn, probably has read the entire collection of first-year books, received her letter with plenty of time to prepare._ '

"You don't say a lot, do you?"

Hermione's inquiry was only met with Jasmine adjusting her glasses. A few seconds passed before the raven-haired girl did decide to speak up again. "I'm not a woman of many words, Miss Granger. Do note the difference."

"Ah yes, Miss Potter. I apologize."

Jasmine's eyes widened. Someone getting to know her given last name so quickly, no matter how smart, was a detriment to her endeavors of keeping a low profile. "How do you know?"

"It was simple, really. A girl my age preferring to keep a low profile, indicating that they have either something to hide or some fame they'd like to ignore by isolating themselves from others. Additionally, it is a 'decently well-known' fact that one Lily J. Evans married into the Potter family one and a half decades ago. Their child, of course, is famous in wizarding Britain, matching with your wish for isolation. Putting one and one together is just that simple. But do not fret, for your secret is safe with me."

"I appreciate the gesture, Miss Granger. And please, do call me Jasmine. It is rare for intellectuals like us to have contacts of similar mindsets, and those that do treasure it over everything." Jasmine's surprise at her heritage being revealed by Hermione was quickly subsiding, and she even managed to get a smile on her lips when finishing her sentence.

"You are most welcome, Jasmine. Do call me Hermione, then." The smile that was on Hermione's face only widened as she made her second statement. "Not so quiet now, are we?"

The rhetorical question only served to widen Jasmine's smile. "Your observation is quite astute."

The rest of the train ride was mainly spent with educational conversation, both witches learning things from the other – way quicker than any textbook could ever teach. Sooner than later, they found themselves dressed in Hogwarts robes and sitting on the boats towards Hogwarts castle.

Unlike most the other first years, neither Jasmine nor Hermione showed anything but a sliver of irritation when the ghosts entered the entrance hall through the walls.

' _Unnecessary theatrics to impress and intimidate first-year students_ ,' was the unified thought that ran through both their heads at the same time, despite them not being anywhere close to each other.

"Hey, Potter," someone exclaimed.

Much to the amusement of two certain witches, no one reacted to that someone's shouting.

Not half a minute later Jasmine found herself face to face with a blond boy, hair slicked up and arrogant grin on his face, which looked more like a grimace than an actual grin.

' _If all aristocrats have such disgusting sneers for grins I'll have to make sure they'll never be happy again in their lives,_ ' Jasmine thought as she continued her basic assessment of the blond ponce in front of her.

"I was talking to you, don't ignore your betters!"

That had the Girl-Who-Lived reacting to the boy, partly because she could no longer ignore his statements and partly because she wanted to put him in his place.

"My name," she started calmly, "is Jasmine Rose Evans. And I'd appreciate it if you used it instead of some name of a person you think I am." As she walked away, she added: "And before you ask me where my manners have gone that I didn't even bother asking your name, I shall let you know that none of your oh so pure blood covers up any of the inferiority that justifies me not bothering to learn your name."

The only things that changed as the ponce's face shifted from a grin to a sneer were his nostrils widening and teeth now clenching visibly together.

Jasmine didn't get to walk very far as a familiar, authoritative voice, tinted in a Scottish lilt, spoke up behind them. "Ah. The first years. Follow me, please."

Jasmine then turned around to face the now-familiar face of her godmother, a soft smile on her face. With her black teaching robes, wand as stiff in her hand as her posture, hair in a tight bun and usual square spectacles, she looked every part of the strict Deputy Headmistress that she was.

As professor McGonagall droned on about the house system, Jasmine completely tuned out her godmother, deeming it unnecessary to 'refresh her memory' about things she already knew. She'd make sure she kept a low profile – both inside her own and amongst other houses – anyways.

Eventually, upon entering the great hall, Jasmine noticed the ancient-looking hat sitting on a three-legged stool.

Saying that she was not impressed was like saying that Mount Everest is tall. A grand understatement of things.

After the sorting hat sung its song, the sorting could finally begin. As Jasmine's different peers were sorted, the house they were sorted to always giving a round of polite applause or cheering, Jasmine once again went over her plan, taking little notice of the sorted persons, until…

"Evans, Jasmine," her godmother's voice rang out in the great hall.

As per every sorting until now, the slight decrease of volume after a name was called out was a pleasant sensation to the ravenette's irritated mood.

Jasmine elegantly walked up to the stool, subtly tapping it with her wand for a cushioning spell. Her mood, if there was anything that was broadcast past her, partially true, façade of emotionlessness, could only be described as indifferent and nonchalant. If everything went to plan, she'd be sitting here for quite a bit. And if it didn't, she'd just be here longer. When she sat herself on the stool, professor McGonagall set the sorting hat on her head.

' _Hmmm… This makes things awkward…_ ' the male voice in her head intoned, not overly pleased.

' _As I am sure you are able to hear this,_ ' Jasmine thought, knowingly and willingly communicating, ' _please do tell me what makes things so awkward._ '

' _Your thoughts, young lady, don't come easily to me as they should. Mind lowering your Occlumency so I may sort you?_ '

The hat's reply had surprised Jasmine. Whilst she knew about the Magics of mind, she didn't practice Occlumency. She was as honest in her reply: ' _Whilst I do know what Occlumency and Legilimency are, I don't practice either. And speaking of that, I will certainly not grant you entrance to my mindscape. My mind, and thoughts, are mine and mine alone._ '

' _Such skepticism coming from a witch so young_ ,' the hat spoke once again, ' _I sense your rightful place in Slytherin. You would certainly fit the other categories as well, given how ambition is based on distrusting others, to an extent._ '

' _Gryffindor, if you would_ ,' Jasmine replied, not wanting to go into any more detail.

' _But why would I place you in the house of the brave whilst you could be just as easily placed into the other three? As I have no insight to your mind, you could go anywhere and be wrongly sorted._ ' The hat's arguments had some truth in them, but were annoying to Jasmine nonetheless.

' _I am a scholar first and foremost_ ,'she finally said after a few minutes of silence,' _and I have no desire to be in the House of Ravenclaw, as there will be envy coming from my fellow scholars if I do better than them. I am aware, and not interested, in the pureblood bigotry that runs rampant in Slytherin House, no matter how you try to disguise it. I am also not in dire want for company, the trademark of Hufflepuff House, and groups of people certainly get on my nerves. That only leaves Gryffindor as least of the four evils, so to say._ ' The other reason for her choosing Gryffindor, left unspoken, was her godmother, who was Head of House for the Gryffindors.

And on another, more ambitious note, there was also the fact that she had the near-perfect cover for her person, given family heritage and other factors. To study some of the less legal or frowned upon arts, such as Legilimency or Occlumency, using some not-so-legal methods to get some books out of the restricted section served as an example. Many would instantly suspect some Slytherin student seeking to fulfill their ambitions or even a Ravenclaw for seeking knowledge, not caring if it was forbidden or not. No-one would suspect 'just a normal student' of the mainly light-aligned Gryffindor House to learn darker or forbidden arts. Brave to a fault, and Loyal as well. The traits of Gryffindor would provide good cover.

' _If you insist_ ,' the hat said after a few more minutes of silence, ' _so mote it be._ GRYFFINDOR!' The last word could be widely heard in the great hall, leading to some clapping and a few cheers from the red-and-gold clad table.

She then stood up, gracefully tossed the oversized pointed hat in the air and tapped her wand on the chair, canceling the cushioning charm she had set up. She was already halfway at Gryffindor table when the hat landed perfectly on the stool.

The sorting once again became a blur, the hat shouting out houses and the house table clapping in quick succession, until the hat went silent on the head of a student once more. It didn't take any more for Jasmine to deduce that the person sitting under the hat at the time was Hermione Granger.

When the hat shouted out "GRYFFINDOR," Jasmine was surprised. She expected Hermione to be sorted into Ravenclaw, going by her studious nature.

' _It would appear_ ,' she mused, ' _that someone has more to them than I initially thought_.'

Another glance at Hermione's smug expression only had Jasmine add another conclusion to her train of thought. ' _Or said someone simply asked the hat_.'

As Hermione arrived at the Gryffindor table, the girl she met on the Hogwarts Express scooted to the side to make room for her new house mate. "Fancy meeting you here, Hermione."

"Oh please," came her reply, "you know as well as I do that I simply asked the hat to put me here."

"Quite true…"

The sorting then blurred past the two witches who decided to just sit there in an amiable silence, the clapping when people got sorted into their new house being the only noise coming from those two.

Jasmine absentmindedly noticed that the blond ponce she put in his place was called Draco Malfoy. Not half a second after the hat was placed on his head, it shouted "SLYTHERIN" for everyone to hear.

When the sorting crowd finally ceased to exist, the Headmaster made his announcements for the year. Again, nothing Jasmine hadn't heard, or read, before. Only the fact that there was one corridor on the third floor being off-limits was something she hadn't heard before.

The promise of a very painful death just ensured Jasmine making a mental note to check it out.

The first day of school saw her in first period as an instructor to the first-year Transfiguration class. Having decided to impress the students, Jasmine was in her black-and-white owl form again, flying outside the Transfiguration wing. Given the fact that she was to instruct _all_ first-year classes alongside professor McGonagall, two houses were each put together for Transfiguration. Jasmine had a period off History of Magic, Charms and Herbology each to make up for the three periods of extra teaching she would do this school year.

As the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins filed into the classroom, Jasmine heard her godmother making the roll call. As said godmother's speech about "Transfiguration being one of the most dangerous but beautiful magics" came to a conclusion, Jasmine flew into the window and perched herself on her professor's desk.

"And now you should be notified that I will be having a fellow student as an intern instructor for the first-year classes this year," Professor McGonagall announced, mentioning to the black-and-white owl that sat on her desk.

That was Jasmine's cue, and she took flight and transformed herself back mid-air, landing gracefully in front of the class. "Thank you, professor," she said, now facing the class. "As most of you already know, my name is Jasmine Evans. You may refer to me as miss –"

"Why should I treat you with any respect, especially as you've treated me with none? And that is before considering that you're just some jumped-up mudblood that wants to act all high-and-mighty. I bet that you're not even capable of turning a needle into a matchstick!" Malfoy's insult came with a sneer, full of contempt.

Before McGonagall could even do anything, Jasmine came up with her own retort to Malfoy's insults. "That will be fifty points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy, for showing gross neglect of authority, insulting an acting instructor, showing pureblood bigotry and insinuating you being superior to your peers. And if I do hear that again I will gladly show you _just how proficient_ I am at human transfiguration." To add insult to injury, she then summoned one needle on each of the students' tables and transfigured them into matchsticks.

"I believe that this dispels any doubts of my competence that you might still have?" After seeing what she had accomplished, everyone nodded. "Oh, and before you ask," she added, "it is well within my capacity as instructor here at Hogwarts to justly give or take points within reason, in the name of Professor McGonagall."

McGonagall then moved on to their first lesson, explaining the basics of Transfiguration to her students. Ronald Weasley turning up too late to class had cost her house ten points, courtesy of herself and McGonagall deducting five each. Luckily, one Hermione Granger had these lost house points back in again, with added interest.

When they moved on to the practical part of the lesson, turning the matchsticks into needles, the young instructor found herself disappointed. Their lack of imagination – a requirement for successful Transfiguration – was worrying. ' _They can't even think of a matchstick turning into a needle, for god's sake!_ ' In the end, only Hermione had gotten her matchstick anywhere near the shape of a needle. This once again earned her house points from McGonagall.

The remainder of the week had Jasmine disappointed. She already knew most of the charms taught in first through third year – learnt whilst teaching herself advanced Transfiguration – so that was boring. Herbology was, as she suspected, not interesting for her in any way, shape or form due to being overly simplistic. Defence Against the Dark Arts was taught by an incompetent, stuttering fool who had – upon some digging – been found out as previous Muggle Studies professor. Jasmine thought that there was something wrong with him – there _had_ to be. But she couldn't quite figure out what it was, due to blinding headaches whenever she was in that stuttering idiot's vicinity. Astronomy was equally boring, due to her having learnt everything in high school upper grade physics class curriculum. And to top it all off, History of Magic was taught by a ghost who droned on like an automaton – and hadn't even had half his facts right in the first place!

The only two classes which Jasmine had yet to attend were Potions – which she currently attended – and flying – which was after potions. She was sitting in the second row, away from the snakes, waiting for the professor to show up.

He did show up, exactly one minute after class had begun. In Jasmine's mind, it was once again a display of theatrics. ' _It was decently done_ ,' she thought, unimpressed, ' _I'll give him that_.' Thus, she decided to hold off her customary once-over of the man until he showed his true colors.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he started, staring at the class with a sneer that showed his contempt. "As there is little foolish wand-waving and muttering of incantations here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... To those of you willing to learn, and competent enough, I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper in death."

"Ah… Miss Evans," he said, his gaze wandering over to Jasmine and his features morphing into a sneer. "Our new _student instructor_." He said this with venom literally dripping off the last two words, making it obvious that he didn't really approve of either her partial authority over the students or… something yet unknown to the Transfiguration prodigy.

"Tell me," Snape asked of Jasmine, "what I would get if I added Ashwinder Egg and horseradish into a cauldron of water?"

"The start for the infamously difficult Felix Felicis, sir." Jasmine's nearly photographic memory instantly supplied her with the necessary book page of one of the potions textbooks she skimmed over. ' _One of the better perks of keeping the mind organized_ ,' she thought to herself. She didn't just read the first-year course book on the subjects that actually interested her – mainly Potions and Transfiguration.

Her professor, though, was not at all pleased with Jasmine's correct answer.

"Correct. What is the difference between Aconite, Wolfsbane, and Monkshood?"

"There is none, professor. They all refer to the same plant, with Wolfsbane and Monkshood being non-scientific and regionally used names." And now it became clear to Jasmine that he had attempted to embarrass her in front of the class – and failed, horribly.

"Correct once again… Do tell where you can find a Bezoar?" His eyes then showed his true emotions regarding Jasmine – hate. Jasmine saw it plain as day, along with a subtle shimmer of triumph as he didn't believe that Jasmine knew that it'd be found in the stomach of a goat.

' _He hates me. For something in his past, I'd assume,_ ' Jasmine started, her mind working lightning fast to piece the puzzle together that was professor Snape. ' _About the age my parents should be. Perhaps he went to school with them? Slytherin Head of House means he'd most likely have been in that house. Natural animosity with my parents was probable. Crush on my mother and not well-founded hate towards my father by the way he's looking at my eyes and hair, perchance. Childish in nature and petulance, very immature, capable of holding a grudge over generations would be my initial assessment of character. Greasy hair, posture reeking of disdain. Probably arrogant and an inferiority complex aimed at my father, and, by extension, me_.'

Jasmine made a mental note to talk to her potions professor after class as she, once again, correctly answered the question. "A Bezoar is a general antidote for a wide range of poisons, found in the stomach of a goat," she said, softly smirking as she saw Professor Snape's eyes go wide. "Or," she added, "in my pocket, as of now." After she said that, she saw his eyes widening even further.

"You have a bezoar on you?" No one missed the incredulity that laced his voice as Snape asked the question.

"Yes, I do. Due to some of us being only novice potioneers, we are bound to, sooner or later, make mistakes. And if one were to make a mistake brewing a dangerous potion and poison themselves, it'd be wise to have a broad, general curative at hand, would it not?" At that, Jasmine pulled out the wrinkled stone known as a Bezoar out of her pocket.

Snape responded to the answer by straightening up. "Your answers were correct, miss Evans. A point to Gryffindor for knowing your stuff, to an extent, and another for recognizing that Potions is indeed dangerous for novice potioneers." As he turned, he added, once again somewhat annoyed: "why are you not writing this down right this instant?"

After waiting for the class to have it written down, Snape handed them their first task. Brewing a potion and having the instructions on the board. The usual modus operandi for Snape, as Jasmine quickly came to understand, was exactly that. Then, he walked around in class, checking for someone to make a mistake.

Jasmine couldn't help but note that he watched her with an extra bit of attention.

After Jasmine had finished the assignment for the class, she handed in her potion – perfect in color and smell – and returned to her seat. She noticed the gaze of a bushy-haired Gryffindor on her, filled with envy and grudging respect that she'd completed the potion in about a quarter of the allocated hour that was remaining of the period.

As Jasmine waited for the class to be over, she noted that Hermione had handed her potion in shortly after she did. She also noted that Hermione's potion was similar in quality. ' _It seems like we've got the starts of a rivalry_ ,' Jasmine mused.

Jasmine then proceeded to stay behind after class to approach her Potions professor. ' _This will be a horrid year if I'd let this continue_ ,' she thought, ' _especially since potions have such a wide field of appliance_.'

"Professor Snape, a word, if you will."

Turning towards her, Jasmine saw, with no small feeling of triumph, that Snape had that angry glare directed towards her. It'd be easy to – hopefully – get her point across when her charge was emotionally compromised.

"Yes, Miss Evans?"

"Regardless of the probable feud that existed between you and my father, I ask you to drop all preconceptions about me you have, had or might entertain the possibility to have in the future. I have no idea what your relationship with my mother was – nor do I have the wish to know. But assuming you held some affection towards her and hers, I'd hoped that you'd at least treat me with some measure of respect out of said affection for my late mother. I'd like to remind you, once again, that I am not my father nor my mother, and that any feud you have with him – regarding my mother or not – are with him and him alone." After Jasmine's speech, she leaned on the wall to enjoy Snape's reaction as he slowly put all the pieces together.

A surprised "how do you know" had her quickly going into another speech.

"It is simple, professor. You stared somewhat kindly at me for one moment, and with disdain on the next. I know that you stared at my eyes and my hair, respectively. Traits of my late mother and father, again, respectively. That said, you, probably, given your age, were my father's rival during his school years. One such object of rivalry was my mother's, one Lily Evans', affections. Additionally, the houses of yours and my parents are known to have a rivalry, supporting my thesis. I am personally interested in the subject of Potions and would like, if time permitted it, to pursue a Mastery, eventually. As such, as in an interested student, I'd like to be treated the same compared to my peers in Slytherin and Gryffindor Houses."

That had Snape deep in thought. Jasmine assumed that he was thinking about the significance of her words, and gave him the time he needed.

"Very well," Snape said, with a small, soft smile, no doubt somewhat reminiscent of the days past spent with one Lily Evans. "I give you my word that I will treat you no differently than other students, regardless of House, unless you prove yourself to be either worthy of praise or scorn. I will wholeheartedly support you acquiring that Potions mastery you desire, given you having the drive and talent to truly master the fine art. If you are promising enough, you will have your OWLs next or third year, the NEWTs a year later than that and your Mastery, no doubt along with the one in Transfiguration you will acquire, by the time you graduate at the latest. But if you do take me up on this offer, given that you're talented enough, be prepared for a heavier workload than you already have, along with the early Transfiguration NEWTs you are sure to attempt."

With a short "thank you, professor," Jasmine turned and went to leave the classroom. Before she was out of the door, she heard one last thing coming from Snape.

"Well done, Miss Evans. Your work is worthy of an Outstanding Plus."

That left a grin on her face for the rest of the day.

The only class Jasmine hadn't attended after her somewhat successful Potions class was flying, held just after the former class. As she approached the Quidditch pitch, she wondered about some of the more 'cliché' ways of broom riding she had read about.

And her flying instructor, Madam Hooch, was a strict, no-nonsense woman who threatened to expel _anyone_ not properly following her instructions. Jasmine saw, though, that no one would really get expelled. ' _She expects the threat to be truly enough and that we haven't read the Hogwarts Charter_ ,' was the first thought that went through Jasmine that moment.

She stood, along with the other first-years of Gryffindor and Slytherin house, near the Quidditch pitch, listening to the flying instructor talking about safety whilst flying. As they finally took into the air, Jasmine tried a few non-orthodox ways of broom flying as soon as she got flew properly in the 'correct' way.

When she landed, she was sitting cross-legged side-saddle on the broom, steering it with one hand and adjusting her robes with the other. She saw, in the corner of her eyes, professor McGonagall come out of the castle as she gracefully dismounted the still-going broom.

"Miss Evans," McGonagall started, "that was some of the craziest flying I've seen since… James Potter!"

To herself, Jasmine deduced, it meant that she was either in for a treat or in _really, really deep_ shit.

"Am I in trouble, professor?" Jasmine simply decided to ask that in lieu of trying to get herself out of whatever she'd have to face.

Some silence from McGonagall, a walk into the castle, a talk with Oliver Wood and some discussion with her godmother later, Jasmine found herself to be the new seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, making her the youngest seeker in a century.

Classes then went by in a blur to Jasmine, the only things of significance to her being the points she and her rival earned for the house of red and gold, along with the ranking listings on assignments and tests. Soon, around October, even with Snape deducting points like a madman, Gryffindor House was in the lead by half a thousand points.

The top listings on tests and assignments would always show the same two Gryffindors in the lead, by a large margin, followed by the most studious Ravenclaws.

Around that time, Jasmine and Hermione started spending time together, most commonly in the library. And around that time, a fellow Gryffindor, Ron Weasley, asked for Jasmine's help with Transfiguration. Jasmine herself was hesitant at first, but gave in eventually – after some harassment from Hermione.

Jasmine couldn't help but feel like that studying arrangement was about to be doomed, given Ron's lazy personality.

She was proven correct when Ron made a comment about Hermione and Jasmine being insufferable know-it-alls on Halloween after a class of charms, causing the former to run off crying and the latter to slap him.

"Just what the heck are you thinking, Weasley? What is wrong with you? Do you have no tact to say something like this to a girl?" Jasmine shouted these words as soon as she saw her rival run off. ' _We may be rivals_ ,' she thought, ' _but our rivalry is the only thing remotely interesting at school_.'

After canceling any future study sessions and leaving a shell-shocked Ron Weasley in the Charms hallway, Jasmine searched for Hermione.

After skipping the afternoon classes searching the upper levels of Hogwarts Castle for Hermione, without success, Jasmine was exhausted. And then, come dinnertime, she was shooed off to the Halloween feast by the professors.

During the feast, Quirrell popped into the Great Hall, his robes in tatters, his right eye black and a limp in his gait. Only Jasmine noticed that his Turban was the only piece of clothing, that _coincidentally_ was left intact and seemingly untouched. "Troll," Quirrell shouted, "Troll in the Dungeons!" After that, the DADA professor collapsed.

Jasmine paled. The only place she hadn't searched for Hermione yet before the professors interrupting her search was the dungeons. This was not a good sign.

Walking up to Quirrell in front of a stunned Great Hall, she slightly touched his lower arm to check his pulse. "He's alive," she shouted, after casting a cannon-blast charm to gain their attention.

After Jasmine's confirmation of Quirrell's state, Dumbledore made everyone retreat to their common rooms and stay there for the night.

No one, apart from Jasmine, noticed the tiny scorch marks on Quirrell's wrist exactly where she touched his skin.

As Jasmine made her way down to the dungeons, every step she took made her angrier. Angrier at Quirrell, angrier at that stupid git Weasley and angrier at Dumbledore for making her life, and job of saving her rival from mortal peril _that much_ more difficult.

As she approached the girls' lavatories in the dungeons, she already smelled the offensive stench of the mountain Troll that was in the vicinity. Opening the doors, she also found herself hearing a girl's soft sobs. ' _Probably Hermione's_ ,' she reasoned.

Opening the stall, Jasmine looked at Hermione once and then sneered. It'd do no good for her rival to be in such a state.

"Troll. In the dungeons. Get out or hide somewhere." The words were cold, sharp and to the point to Hermione, who seemed first shocked and then pondering about the ravenette's utter lack of emotion.

She did as she was told, however, and hid by transfiguring a few pebbles into a thin wooden wall.

Jasmine, seeing that Hermione had done so, quickly transfigured the wooden barrier into reinforced steel. That would hopefully stop a Troll for a bit.

And then, she turned around to face the twelve-foot menace that just had the audacity to disturb her quiet by slamming his club into one of the boys' bathroom stalls next door.

Muttering silent curses about professors being incompetent, Jasmine took a piece of pipe, enlarged it, transfigured it into a spike and banished it in direction of the troll's head.

Gore splattered everywhere as the steel spike struck true, piercing the Troll's skull and sending brain matter flying the direction it exited. Its killer merely cast a shield charm to intercept any that was flying at her. ' _I'd rather not wear filthy, Troll-stained robes_ ,' she reasoned, ' _I'd be reeking of Troll brain for weeks_!'

Shortly after, professors McGonagall, Dumbledore and Flitwick turned up at the scene. McGonagall threw up before asking any questions. Apparently, the stench and gore were too much for the old Transfiguration mistress.

Before anyone, not only the puking Minerva McGonagall, could ask questions, Jasmine decided to answer most, if not all of them.

"I noticed," she started, "that Ms. Granger was absent from the feast just now and had a rough idea of where she was, here, due to having searched most other parts of the castle for her shortly before dinner. Then, I figured that I'd recover her and deal with the Troll if it came to be a bother. As you see, it did. I must admit that physical force to its head is an easy way to dispose of Trolls."

McGonagall, who had regained her senses shortly after Jasmine started talking, simply awarded fifty points to Gryffindor for "saving another student from mortal peril". She had doubtlessly noticed that Jasmine was practically seething with anger, now that she had fully evaluated the scene.

"I would advise you," Jasmine started anew, staring at the three professors present with barely concealed ire, "to see to the fact that this will not happen again."

With that, she vanished her barricade and grabbed a shocked Hermione's wrist, dragging her along to the infirmary.

It was only shortly after getting a clean bill of health the two girls sat in the common room, discussing what happened and _why_ it happened. From there, both the girls found out that the Troll wasn't a coincidence, but rather a distraction.

The story of the first-year Transfiguration instructor downing a twelve-foot mountain Troll was common knowledge in Hogwarts, not a day later.

The next few months were fairly uneventful for Jasmine, who was doing her best to excel in her studies, teach her fellow, mostly incompetent, peers transfiguration, finding out about Quirrell's mysteries and trying to keep a low profile. In short, Jasmine's days were almost back to the time before Halloween.

Granted, after the 'Troll-incident', keeping a low profile got a lot harder.

Jasmine had also gotten a lot closer to Hermione, the two girls commonly studying together and generally spending a lot of time in each other's company as November came and went. Few words were spoken between the pair of brilliant witches, but they didn't need them.

As Christmas approached, Jasmine was in a dilemma. She wanted to gift Hermione something but had no means to get it.

It was then she remembered that the school's greatest pranksters were in her house.

"Messrs. Weasley, I am in need of your services," Jasmine said as she approached Fred and George Weasley. "In fact, I'd need a way out of school."

"Now why" George began.

"Would a wee firstie," Fred continued,

"Need a way out of school?"

"And as you apparently allege the fact."

"That my brother and I."

"Know a way to accomplish said aims."

"That's something for me to know and for you to _never_ find out," she stated the unhung threat of transfiguring them into ferrets looming in the air. Both Weasley twins had heard of the number she did on Draco Malfoy after being insulted again by the ponce.

"But why."

"Even if we did know."

"Would we tell you?"

"Also."

"Shouldn't you be around slaying Trolls."

"Or Dragons."

"Or something?"

Jasmine actually grinned at that. "No. And I know because you hope to imitate a few people who roamed these hallowed halls about a decade ago."

Fred and George both blanched, not knowing that others knew of the Marauders' existence.

"How do you know?"

The fact that only one of them, George, spoke, spoke volumes about their surprise right now. Jasmine knew she had them.

"Oh, I know a lot of things. Some of which come from having the head of Gryffindor as godmother and others through close observation. Both the reasons I know as much as I do actually came into play in that case." In truth, Jasmine only had a few of her godmother's stories about her parents and found out quite a bit using the snippets of information she got from the stories.

"I also know," Jasmine continued, "that you screw up your exams and assignments on purpose. So, I have an offer for you. If you keep your heads somewhat down until you breeze past your NEWTS, I'd be able to finance your endeavors of opening a prank shop."

Jasmine noted then that their eyes widened again. She just smiled.

Looking at each other, they wanted to know one more thing. Both asked "why" in unison.

The Gryffindor first-year knew she had them now.

"Because I want my godmother to not have to fuss too much about the school's biggest resident troublemakers."

That last statement was a blatant lie. Jasmine just wanted to get out of school to get Hermione her Christmas present, easy access to Gringotts to manage her liquid assets and possibly get herself a broom. Also, she wanted the knowledge of said passageways for future reference. She couldn't let the twins know that though.

"Alright," they both said. "You've got yourself a deal, Miss Evans."

With that, Jasmine had what she was looking for. It was too easy to play people like that. She gave them enough information that they _thought_ they knew what was going on, but left the crucial pieces of the puzzle well unsaid, knowing that no-one could find them out. That made lying _so much_ easier.

Two hours later, the girl returned to the school with her present for Hermione.

The holidays came quickly for Jasmine, who was spending her extracurricular time either mulling over her parents' investments or trying to gain intelligence on Quirrell.

Christmas day was a fairly happy affair, Jasmine waking up to three presents stacked at the end of her bed. One was wrapped in red and gold, the other in browns and dark greens and the third in a midnight blue. It didn't take long for Jasmine to figure out who put the first two presents there. She wondered what her godmother and rival/friend had sent her.

The third one, though, intrigued Jasmine. She didn't have any connections and her name change made her fairly inconspicuous in school. ' _So why would anyone send me a Christmas present?_ '

Casting a few detection charms at it, Jasmine saw that it hadn't been tampered with. She wasn't going to be tracked or monitored, nor was she risking getting hexed. She deemed the package safe to open.

Opening the package revealed a feather-light cloak similarly colored as the wrapping paper it was sent in. Silver runes of several ancient languages inscribed all over the cloak. It seemed that the cloak was alive by the way the runes lit up and dimmed in an irregular pattern. Apparently, this is one complex piece of magic.

After marveling at her present, Jasmine noted the little card that had fallen to the ground. Picking it up, she read its contents.

'Your father left this with me for research purposes before he left. I think it'd be prudent to return it to you. Use it wisely.'

The handwriting gave Dumbledore away as the sender of the present. And caused a little frown to appear on Jasmine's face.

Pulling on the cloak, she saw in wonderment as the fabric hid the runes from view and modeled itself into the shape of a modern hooded great coat. The fabric itself was soft as silk and didn't weigh one bit, although Jasmine did notice how it clung to her lean frame, making her appear older and more mature.

Staring in wonderment at the mirror, she let out a soft gasp as the cloak showed its true nature, hiding her from sight. Her head was still visible, although she did wonder where her hands went.

Shortly after, the now invisible girl noticed that she was wearing skin-tight gloves that just appeared from the coat.

Then, her mind finally snapped out of the wonderment and questions started popping up left and right.

' _How did Dumbledore get the cloak? How can this thing last so long and not be using either Demiguise fur or disillusionment charms? How is this still in perfect condition?_ '

With that, Jasmine made a mental note to eventually consult Hermione about the cloak. In the mean-time, she'd be keeping this treasure somewhere safe.

After casting a series of detection charms for tracking spells again, and them all showing negative, Jasmine stowed the cloak away in her trunk.

Having that away, she turned her attention to the package wrapped in red and gold. The card confirmed that it was indeed Minerva McGonagall sending this package to her, along with well-wishes for Christmas and an invitation for tea this afternoon.

The little package was actually shrunk, containing two items. One caused Jasmine's eyes to widen in wonderment and the other got a few giggles out of her.

A Nimbus 2000 and an owl perch were McGonagall's presents for her. Wondering whether the owl perch was for her or for Hedwig, she made sure to thank her godmother for the gifts either way.

Moving on to the last package, the ravenette's prediction was once again confirmed as she read the beautiful calligraphy that was Hermione Granger's handwriting.

'To Jasmine, Merry Christmas, from Hermione.'

A pink rose was drawn on the card, beautifully shaded and immaculately colored. She had no doubt that Hermione would make a wonderful artist eventually.

Opening the gift, Jasmine was stunned the second time that morning as she unwrapped a light blue shawl, trimmed in red and gold. In awe, she ran her hands and eyes over the soft fabric, marveling at the evenness of the craftsmanship. Further unravelling the present revealed a set of matching hair- and armbands in a darker blue than the shawl itself.

The shawl was, despite its quality, hand-made. Jasmine saw that much by the tiny irregularities. The little silver initials of 'J. E.' carved into a tiny silver rosebud that was on one end of her shawl gave it a more personal touch as well.

Once again, she felt something warm and pleasant stir in her heart, the feeling is similar in nature to the time she spent with her godmother for the first time. Of course, she had expected a present from the bushy-haired witch for Christmas, judging by how close the two were in their house, but she hadn't expected anything of _this_ magnitude.

It must have taken Hermione ages to properly knit this shawl for her, judging by their timetables and time spent together. Also, she noted that Hermione had gone these lengths to gift her something _personal_. No one, not even her godmother, had done this before.

Jasmine then made a mental note to invite Hermione to tea with her godmother in the afternoon.

A few weeks later, late January, Jasmine finally figured out all the mysteries that surrounded her DADA professor. All the nervous stuttering, him talking to himself, the other person being called 'master', the sweating, his posture, which was getting worse by the day, and the strong smell of garlic that always followed him wherever he went.

Her little information-extracting session with Hagrid a week after the Troll incident confirmed her suspicion that Quirrell was possessed. ' _Sudden attacks on unicorns? Seriously_?'

Only shortly thereafter she figured out who was possessing Quirrell. The pain in her scar, the fact that the possessor was not dead, but somehow anchored in this realm, the motif of the person wanting to go after the Philosopher's Stone – another fact that she had found out by asking Hagrid and getting the name Nicholas Flamel – and the fact that Snape and Dumbledore, by the way they were acting, knew who was after said stone. It only left one person, really.

That person was the Dork Lard, as his vanquisher referred to him, that tried to 'fly from death' and got smacked in the face with it eleven years ago, after killing her parents.

She contemplated on taking these findings to her godmother, but decided against it – it'd do no good for her to divulge the knowledge, after all. Quirrell couldn't touch her, due to her touch burning him – another one of her findings she noted after mentally revisiting the night in a critical manner. Also, the raven-haired girl had been spending less time with her godmother recently, leaving the same to wonder why.

Another few days later, Jasmine brought her concerns to Hermione, wanting to know what the other girl found out on her own.

"It is obvious," Hermione stated, "that Quirrell is possessed and that the possessor wants to go after whatever is hidden behind that forbidden corridor on the third floor. The Troll a week back was, as we know, a distraction for Quirrell to get behind the traps the professors set there. And then we have Snape, who was bitten by whatever was behind that door. I assume he tried to stop Quirrell in his tracks and was successful with it."

"And it's also obvious," her opposite added, "that the thing behind the traps is none other than the Philosopher's Stone. And it is apparent that Quirrell's possessor wants to gain a new body by getting to the Stone. All this leads me to exactly one conclusion, and I'd like to see if you've reached that too."

As the gears in Hermione's brain started turning, Jasmine turned and left, knowing that she anything she said wouldn't reach the brunette until she had figured it out herself.

 **A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you like the story, feel free to follow or leave a review. A big thank you to everyone who has already followed and favorited this story so far. I really do appreciate it.**

 **Apparently, this whole 'first few days of school' thing really got out of hand. Anyways, constructive criticism of any kind is appreciated. Thank you for reading.**


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